Over
by ImOrca
Summary: They didn't know the things she had done after she left them. At one time she would have feared their knowledge. Now, she simply didn't have the will to tell them. And nobody was left alive that could if she didn't.


**Notes: This was written immediately after s4e4 "Indifference" aired. It was a speculation on what **_**might**_** happen with Carol's banishment and ultimate return. Though we've now seen the return of Carol to part of the group, and the canon end to th'guv'na, I still really like how this story turned out. With the speculation about the "coldness" or "inhumanity" that Carol allegedly developed, this story stands as a stark contrast to what happened in "The Grove," and considers what coldness would **_**actually**_** mean for her. Decidedly AU at this point.**

**Disclaimer: Copyright for **_**The Walking Dead**_** belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.**

**Title: "Over"**

* * *

She was back. She didn't know how to feel or what to think. Maggie had embraced her, tears streaking down her face. Carol had been told about her losses, but she didn't feel them. Beth had refused to speak, had just held onto Judith as if the toddler was a shield against Carol's presence. It was really more what she had expected from all of them.

Tyreese looked like hell. He'd lost so much weight that his skin hung from him and his eyes were sunken. He, too, had said nothing, but his eyes had burned with an unquenched fire. She'd expected that, too. He would have his chance. She wouldn't deny it to him. Rick might try to make some pronouncement to keep her protected, but she didn't plan to hide. She would go to Tyreese unarmed, or let him find her. Either way it would be over. If he did what he had wanted to do all those months ago it would be over. If he made a new oath to her it be would over. If he walked away it would be over. Over, she had learned, was for the best.

Carl had his gun back, and his hat. She found it strange that she could tell how she once would have reacted to him even though she wouldn't now. She had a vague notion that she was proud of him, and it took her a while to recall why. Finally she remembered: Rick had told her that Carl hadn't kept her defense lessons a secret. That showed growth. He would be a good man. Carl would be a man of honor.

They didn't know the things she had done after she left them. At one time she would have feared their knowledge. Now, she simply didn't have the will to tell them. And nobody was left alive that could if she didn't. She would know and they would not until the day she died. Even that didn't hurt. It just was.

Michonne was the hardest to face. The only thing she'd really felt standing there with them all was a pang of regret that Michonne would not have her revenge. Michonne had eyed her with acknowledgement and respect. The woman seemed to sense what the others couldn't. Maybe, if she asked, Carol would answer. It was strange, though, how wanting someone dead and making them that way didn't seem to equal out. Death, Carol had found, was a filthy cheat.

She didn't look at Daryl mostly because she knew he would never look at her, at least not in the eye. He wouldn't understand her actions before, during, or after. As soon as she'd stepped through that tent flap and seen Philip Blake she had known what she'd be required to do. She had known what she wanted and what she would sacrifice anything to accomplish. And she'd done it. In a single heartbeat her world had realigned for the third time, and if she knew nothing else she knew it was final.

She had no more patience. She could no longer speak softly. She was still or she executed. She was silent or she screamed in a whisper. She waited. She watched. She killed.

She had no kindling for any slow burn. There was no rhythm left for dancing around anyone. She wasn't even sure if she could stay with them at all now. She hadn't been able to ask about Lizzie or Mika. She was certain that all she would be able to show was curiosity. Her lack of genuine care for the answer would have been obvious. When the world shifted she had given them up for dead.

Wait, no. That wasn't accurate. She had understood that her tie to them – to anyone – was dead. It was over because it was necessary that it be over. In that moment she had understood what she thought perhaps Merle Dixon might have been thinking that last day: there was no coming back. If she was killed accomplishing her final task, she accepted it. She had nothing to either lose or to live for. Nothing Blake did could touch her like that. She would give him answers he wanted and her very indifference would prove that it was worthless. She would endure whatever nasty thing he thought would destroy her because he didn't know there was nothing left to break. She would do for him whatever needed to be done because it simply didn't matter whether she did it or didn't do it. And if doing it got her closer, do it she would. And she did.

But she was here again, with them. Did she remember who it was they knew?

They had granted her request to camp out in the yard. They had taken her weapons and allowed her to set up in silence. Rick was the only one to approach her, asking if she would join them to eat. She declined, requesting a plate could be saved for her to pick up once everyone was cleared out for the night. He stood with her for a while, simply sharing silence. She had nothing to say. Eventually he gave her a long look, then moved as if to touch her arm. She eased out of his reach and turned to stare out at the treeline until she heard him sigh and move off.

She sat on the grass, now, looking up to the stars and listening to the dead. She heard him coming. The woman he knew would not have, she remembered. She was sure the woman he knew would have been nervous, concerned about what to say and how to make him understand. She simply waited. She had no other ideas about what to do.

He stopped behind her and waited. She didn't move and she stayed silent. There was just...nothing. It was a surprisingly long time until he shuffled next to her and eased himself onto the ground. She didn't turn to him. His arrival had stirred up some of the dead whose cries became more urgent. It was annoying.

He eased the crossbow from his shoulder and placed it on the ground at his side. Pulling up his legs, he rested his forearms on his knees. She didn't need to look at him to know. The stars were dimmer since he had come up. It was annoying.

"Wanted to let you know I's glad yer back."

She finally broke her gaze from the stars and brought it down to the fenceline where the agitated walkers were shaking the mesh. She remained silent.

"It was a long wait."

It struck her as funny to characterize what had happened as a "wait," and she allowed herself to laugh lightly. When she quieted she realized he hadn't laughed with her.

"What was your theory?" she asked.

She felt him shift beside her, uncomfortable at the question. "Um...don' know. Most likely you were dead. Any of us would'a been on our own. Hadn't imagined you'd hook up with him. Thought he'd be so much further away, what with Michonne's huntin' turnin' up empty all the time."

She scoffed. "He wasn't a stupid man. He knew what his chances were without his walls and his men. He knew she wouldn't give up. And he knew Merle had a brother."

Daryl was silent for a long while, then clearing his throat he said, "So, how'd it work – you and him?"

"What is it you're asking, Daryl? I'd rather tell you what you really want to know."

"Did he...force ya?" The discomfort in his voice was obvious.

She turned and looked at him then. He was looking away, avoiding her eyes. "If you want to know, Daryl, I'll tell you but you have to look in my eyes when I do so you know that I'm telling the truth."

He raised them then, squinty and unsure, but meeting her gaze.

"He never had to force me to do...anything. Not one thing. I knew what I wanted to accomplish from the second I saw who he was. I wanted him dead, Daryl, and I did everything I needed to do in order to be in a position so that I was armed and trusted enough to be alone with him where I couldn't be caught once it was done. That took a long time and a lot of things I will not repeat to you. But I did it willingly because _no matter what_, even if it took my life and everything decent left in me, it needed to be _over _with him."

She finally stopped and he still held her gaze. She could see the starlight reflected in his eyes. They looked wetter than they should and in her peripheral vision she could see his fists had clenched into the grass at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off before he could.

"Don't! I stopped caring about consequences a long time ago. Most of the time, now, I spend trying to understand how and why I'm not dead. I always kind of figured that I would be once it was all done. The point of all of it was that I could do one thing with what was left of me when I knew I couldn't get back and I knew what would be waiting if I did."

She finally broke eye contact with him. Something in her chest was hurting and she reached up to knead her shoulder. Her throat was tight, too.

"They wouldn't have understood Karen and David. And they sure as hell won't understand anything after." Something caught in her throat and she found herself coughing to relieve it. "Shouldn't be near those children, or you. So, now that you've heard it, go back in and tell them if you need to. I won't be – I won't –" and then her voice failed her. She realized, finally, that her cheeks were wet. It had been so long since she'd cried that it came up on her unexpectedly. She had to finish it, though. This chat with Daryl had to be over. "I won't be saying it again to anyone else. Go!"

With that she shoved at his arm to get him to move and she pushed herself to her feet. Walking to her tent she didn't look back even when she heard Daryl call to her.


End file.
